


The Fall of a Sparrow

by Azalea_Scroggs



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hamlet Fusion, Angst, Dark Luke, Depression, Gen, Nearly Everybody Dies, Suicidal Thoughts, The Dark Side of the Force, Tragedy, basically every warning you can think of reading Hamlet also applies to this, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-04-04 20:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalea_Scroggs/pseuds/Azalea_Scroggs
Summary: After his traumatic duel with Darth Vader, Luke's prayers and desperate calls through the Force as he hung upside down beneath Cloud City remained fruitless. The Millenium Falcon never reached him, and while Leia, Han, Lando and Chewbacca narrowly managed to escape, Luke was captured by his father and greatest foe. Trapped on Imperial Centre, burdened by the revelation of his legacy and struggling against the two Sith Lords holding him, will Luke succeed in resisting the dark side of the Force and restoring justice to the galaxy, or will he succumb to the forces of evil?Basically just another “Vader gets Luke on Bespin” fic, but with a twist.Something is rotten in the Galactic Empire.





	1. This too, too sullied flesh

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've had in the back of my head for a very long time. Basically, I discovered Shakespeare's _Hamlet_ quite recently, only a few months ago, and immediately my Star Wars obsessed brain, helped by certain pictures of a black-clad Mark Hamill holding a skull in his hand, wondered what it would become in the galaxy far far away. Along the way it changed, because I'm more focused on keeping it coherent with the Star Wars universe than sticking to the play, but that's where the story originated from and hopefully it will stay recognisable. It won't be very long, just five chapters, like the acts of a play. It will also be updated very sporadically, considering both that real life never lets up and that my other projects, primarily Black Squadron, are still being updated in priority. This is only a little side thing.
> 
> Please also note the warnings. This is quite a dark fic. That being said, I hope you enjoy reading it. The tone should be set from the first chapter on.

Hanging upside down from a narrow piece of metal. Wind whipping around him, wrist burning, muscles aching. He couldn't breathe.

“Leia...”

He groaned, shut his eyes tight, trying to forget, to escape from the worst pain of it all. I am your father. He could no longer even feel the fingers of his left hand, so tightened were they around the weather vane keeping him from plunging towards the planet.

“Leia... hear me...”

He was petrified, the smell of blood in his mouth, the taste of death in his heart. Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes, drowning the colours of the clouds in a swarm of flies, building up the pressure in his head. He was shaking, feeling weak, feeling cold, feeling dirty. Oh, to lose consciousness, to fall into these depths and their oblivion, swallowed by the coloured gases below...

“Please...”

_My son._

He shivered as the voice touched his mind, his heartbeat racing in his temples, a trembling and panicked breath leaving his bruised lips. No... no... He fought against his numbed body, trying to open his frozen hand, to unlock his heavy knees. Death would be better, infinitely better than his fate if Vader reached him.

A shadow came under him, and he swallowed, salt on his tongue. He could feel darkness closing on him, wrapping itself around him like a cloak, like a shroud, beckoning and reassuring. Terror clogged up in his throat, senseless prayers flying on his breath.

_Ben, why didn't you tell me?_

His hand opened, and he plummeted down, down, endlessly down, falling unconscious into the arms of the black shape waiting for him.

*******

He woke up with difficulty, in a daze. His head was throbbing, and all his muscles felt heavy and weak. He tried to open his eyes, but the bright light in the room hurt too much, and he closed them again quickly. Where was he, what had happened to him? He prodded his memories, trying to recall.

Suddenly it all came back to him, and he gasped, overwhelmed by the onslaught. _Bespin. Vader. Leia..._ He tried to sit up and find answers, but his body was still too weak and he fell back, panting. He focused on his breath, trying to slow down the rhythm of his heart, to calm the incoherent mess that were his thoughts.

He must be in a medbay. His surroundings smelled of bacta, and he was lying on something comfortable, like a mattress. His head was resting on a cushion, and the familiar buzzing of medical machines and droids rang to his ears.

That had to mean he was with the Rebellion, healing. He had managed to escape. The reassuring conclusion allowed him to finally relax. For a moment, he had thought he was still there, at Vader's mercy... He shivered, remembering the smoke, the coldness of the freezing facility, the sweat and strain of the duel, the dangerous heat of their lightsabres clashing.

_Vader outmatching him, toying with him. Vader's red blade on his throat, taunting him with Obi-Wan's demise. Vader cutting through his wrist... telling him – telling him..._

Luke shied away from the memory with a shuddering breath. It was a lie, it must have been. His enemy was so much stronger than he was; he must have manipulated the Force to throw him in confusion.

Now was not the time to think about that. He was safe, he was back with his friends, he was healing. He could deal with all of that when he was ready.

More serenely this time, Luke tried to open his eyes again. Leia must be nearby... he wanted to see her, ask her for news, know how she was coping. He owed her a lot, if like he thought she had heard him and rescued him from his desperate position under the city in the clouds. His tired pupils slowly found their focus, confirming his suspicions – this was indeed clearly a medbay, although he didn't recognise it as the _Redemption._

Only then did he register the terrifying mechanical sound resonating in the room, which sent all his senses flaring in alarm. Looming sinister on the left side of his bed, a few feet further, stood Vader.

Luke rejected his covers as quickly as he could and struggled to scramble out of bed, his movement made clumsy and slow by whatever drug they had injected him with. His right forearm was bound to some kind of device, and he pulled on it hard, desperate to break free.

“Restrain him,” Vader ordered, his cold and vicious voice sending chills through Luke's spine.

Immediately hands roughly held him down, and he fought back with a hoarse cry as the troopers that had stepped from behind him pushed him back into the bed. His thoughts were buzzing, incredulous, stunned.

His bound arm ended with a hand. 

The instant of distraction allowed the troopers to successfully force him into a reclining position, but he was too confused to mind. Had things not happened the way he recalled them? Had he only dreamt the searing pain bolting through his wrist, the shock at seeing the burnt stump at the end of his arm, the panic as he found himself disarmed in front of his enemy? He had trouble knowing what was real and what was not, terrifyingly precise though the memories were. And if he hadn't lost his hand, then perhaps what had followed hadn't occurred either, perhaps the dreadful revelation, too, was nothing but a fevered mind's nightmare... maybe Vader hadn't – maybe he wasn't –

Another quick glance down to his right hand shattered all his hopes. It was a prosthesis, roughly the length of half his forearm. A section under his wrist was open, leaving wires and circuits clearly visible. He couldn't move it, nor even feel it.

He exhaled and bowed his head in defeat.

“Proceed with the calibration.”

The weight of gloved palms on his body preventing him from moving, his guts clenched so hard it was painful, Luke helplessly watched as the medical droid adjusted various controls inside his arm, pricking his fingertips from time to time to test their reaction. His heart was in his throat and drumming madly, his breath reduced to quick and shaky pants as he felt the synthetic nerves gradually tune in with his nervous system. Waves of light pain flared at different intervals as the droid worked, surprising him each time, but he did his best not to flinch. He didn't want to provide Vader with a show of weakness.

Finally, after a last test of his reflexes, the droid announced he had finished working, and freed Luke's arm of its restraints before stepping back. Luke watched him go away, flexing his fingers. The Dark Lord exchanged a few words with the droid, then took a step towards him.

“Leave us,” he waved the stormtroopers out of the room.

They obeyed, releasing the pressure on Luke's shoulders, and the youth was left alone with Vader, his guts tied in knots as the cyborg stood inches from his bed. He nervously rubbed his right wrist and sustained Vader's gaze, who was watching him in silence, his hands behind his back. Luke tried to ignore the pain shooting in his hand, the discomfort at having the man who inflicted it so close to him, and did his best not to think about how helpless he was, unable to defend himself against whatever Vader decided to do to him.

His stomach moved uneasily. What was Vader going to do to him? It was a wonder that he had been healed, going so far as being fit with a new hand. Frankly, he was already astonished and unnerved not to have met a Jedi's death at Vader's lightsabre. The extended medical attention didn't seem to point out to interrogation then execution, like he would have expected the Empire to inflict on a Rebel like him. He thought he would have preferred such a fate; somehow, the uncertainty made it harder to stay strong.

He quickly pushed away the memory of Vader's hand outstretched to him as he miserably hung from that gantry, his arm on fire, of his offers of peace and power. He wouldn't fall. He would resist the Dark Lord and his tricks, he would die before he gave in to the dark side.

Finally Vader spoke.

“I see you are healing well.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Luke stopped rubbing his arm, and warily kept his eyes on his enemy. He hated the near concern that was present in the words, though not in the vocoder's dull tones. Vader only had to reach out to touch Luke, and the young man had to resist not to show how much he itched to take distance.

“Good,” Vader said, as if Luke's silence had been an answer in itself. “You will need all your strength to meet the Emperor. He has been looking forward to seeing you.”

A wave of cold fell on Luke, who gritted his teeth. Yoda and Ben had warned him against the man and his powers. They had told him he would want him, and his abilities.

“The feeling isn't mutual,” he replied brashly.

“As I would expect. But you will soon change your attitude. He can have very... _persuasive_ means of bringing someone to his point of view.”

Luke swallowed, trying not to let his mind run free with the hidden meanings behind Vader's words. Of course, he would know all about the Emperor's methods... It didn't matter. He wouldn't turn. 

“Never,” he whispered. 

For the first time, it dawned on him how hopeless his situation was: trapped, about to be brought to the most powerful of their enemies, in the middle of their capital. He knew better than to hope for a rescue, and the chances of him escaping were slim, even though that wouldn't stop him from trying. Slowly, the realisation set in that this may very well be his end; but that didn't scare him so much as everything that would likely come before.

Perhaps he deserved the torment. He had brought this upon himself. He should have listened to Yoda.

“I can feel your fear,” Vader said. “You are repressing it, instead of using it.”

Luke breathed in and buried all memories of his teacher away. He wouldn't betray him; he'd already done enough damage.

“If that's how you hope to convert me, that's not gonna work,” he replied. He found that meeting Vader's words with defiance helped him keep his courage. It gave him a semblance of control over his fate, for all fickle and unreal that it was. He would need all the bravery and the confidence he could muster to make it through the upcoming ordeal. “I know fear is of the dark side.”

He was satisfied to see Vader clench his fists in what he supposed was restrained anger. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

“All you know is the weak and narrow-minded view of the Jedi,” he snapped. “Obi-Wan has taken you from me, and filled your head with lies and misconceptions. If only you would embrace your true potential...”

“I'd trust him any day over your twisted vision of the Force and the galaxy.” Luke purposefully ignored the comment about Obi-Wan taking him away. He couldn't think about that. “Neither you or your Emperor will change my mind. You'll have to kill me before I ever turn.”

They stared at each other in silence. Luke could feel Vader's displeasure in the Force, smothering the room's atmosphere.

“So eager to die for your misguided ideals.” Vader's words were slow, every sound dripping with disdain. Luke sustained his gaze for a few more seconds, then the man spoke again, his voice softer, changing tactics. “Luke. You have no idea what the Emperor is capable of. He will break you in every possible way if you do not submit.”

“I'm sure you'll be thrilled to watch.” The words escaped Luke before he could hold them back, full of bitterness. The nerve of him, to feign concern after everything he'd done to him – after – He took a deep breath, unwilling to go there. He had to be strong. Vader was his enemy, nothing else. He had lied to him to unsettle him. He couldn't let it get at him.

To both his relief and dismay, Vader did not seem to react to his provocation. “No. There is another solution, even if you still refuse to acknowledge it. The offer I made you on Bespin still stands. If you join me... we could destroy him, free the galaxy from his rule forever. Isn't that what you are fighting for?”

“I'm fighting to free the galaxy from the _Empire_ ,” Luke burst out, appalled. “Not to become a part of it, not to throw it in even more darkness!”

“You do not know what you are talking about. The galaxy needs a firm hand to guide it. And with you at its head, my son –”

“Don't call me that! You have no right to call me that!” Luke shouted. He had known it was coming, but that didn't make it easier to hear. He closed his eyes, his heart drumming too fast against his ribs as he tried and failed not to think about it. It wasn't true, it wasn't true, it was just a trick, it wasn't true... His father was Anakin Skywalker, a good Jedi, a great pilot. Not this monster. It wasn't true...

“I have _every right_ ,” Vader said, and suddenly his voice was made of ice, cold and dangerous and seeping into Luke's veins, as if liquid fury had replaced the blood there. “You _are_ my son.”

He made to grasp Luke's shoulder, but the young man bolted out of bed, desperately needing distance. Vader followed him, the bed standing in his way earning Luke a few seconds of respite before he was stuck against the wall. The Dark Lord didn't stop until he was standing right in front of him, towering over him and casting him in his shadow. He extended a hand towards his face, and Luke flinched, raising his arms in an attempt to protect himself.

“Don't touch me!”

As only answer to his demand, Vader seized his chin and forced him to look up. Luke's eyes widened, and he tried to repress the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him at having him in such proximity, the fresh memories of a sabre under his throat as he lay unable to defend himself far too present on his mind. His legs were trembling from rising too quickly in his weak state, and he had to lean heavily against the wall. His vision was covered in black spots, his breaths coming in quick gasps.

“You are _my son_ ,” Vader growled. “It is the truth. Nothing you can do will change it.” Luke felt as if a blanket of possessive rage had wrapped itself around his shoulders, smothering him, sending his heart into even more of a frenzy. It was a nightmare. There was no escape; he was trapped. “Luke, Obi-Wan kept you away from me long enough. Join me; it is your destiny.”

“No!” Luke hated the pang in his chest upon hearing his given name pronounced by the artificial voice. He tried to jerk away from Vader's grasp on his jaw, but it was too strong. He couldn't breathe. “I'm a Jedi. I won't turn.”

The hold on his chin turned softer, and Luke closed his eyes in anguish, trying to tune out the contact. Vader's fingers trailed up his jaw line to stroke his cheek. “Then you will die.” He was so close Luke could feel his unnatural breath echo through his bones, sending shivers through his whole body. He was so small, and the Dark Lord was so huge, that he was completely blocking the light of the room's lamp from reaching him, casting him in darkness. “Is that really what you desire?”

“Beats becoming like you.” His words sounded too tiny, too afraid, the trembling whisper far from the defiant scowl he had intended.

The hand froze with a spike of anger, and Luke expected the searing pain of a lightsabre running through his body to burst at any moment. But the leather simply left his cheek, and Vader grasped his shoulders instead, bumping them against the wall. Luke warily looked up at him again.

“Can you not see how unreasonable you are being?” Vader hissed. “I am offering you everything! You could have the entire galaxy, if only you weren't so set in your foolish ways!”

Luke gritted his teeth. Vader's vice-like grip on his shoulders was hurting like hell, and he had to repress a cry of pain. “I don't want any of it.”

“The path you are taking will only lead you to suffering. You _don't know_ what the Emperor will do to you. Words cannot describe his power. He will crush your will and shatter your mind, drive you into such horror that nothing will be left of you but an obedient servant, bound to him in every way.”

Luke balled his shaking and sweaty hands in fists.

“And you'll let him do that to me?” he asked. “Even as you claim to be my father?”

He froze, unable to believe these words had crossed his lips. _But it's not true,_ he thought. _He claims it, but it's false._

“You are not leaving me any choice,” Vader answered, and Luke refused to believe the desperation in his tone was anything but faked.

He then released Luke and took a step back. The young man had to fight to remain upright, both from the relief of being freed from this unwanted proximity at last and the fear of what Vader was planning now.

“We will be reaching Imperial Centre in a few hours,” he said. “I will leave you that time to reconsider. I advise you to think carefully; from now on your fate is in your own hands.”

He turned around and strode towards the door before gesturing to the troopers again. Luke's legs were struggling to support his weight, even relying as he was on the wall in his back. He forced himself to take deep breaths. He wouldn't pass out – he wouldn't collapse – he would remain strong –

“Give him proper clothes and take him to a cell,” Vader ordered. “Maximum security. I will not tolerate his escaping.”

He left, and Luke was forced to change from the white medical robes into uncomfortable, standard Imperial-issued clothes in front of the soldiers, before being roughly marched to a cell all too similar to the one he had rescued Leia from, so long ago. He endured everything with courage, obeying his captors when they were urging him on and sending them defiant glares whenever they were being rough, never uttering a word.

However, the composure he had so painstakingly maintained shattered at the swooshing sound of his prison's door closing on him with deadly finality. Finally succumbing to the weakness of his half-healed body, he let himself slide down on the floor with a pained whimper. All his muscles were aching, his ribs and hand hurting, his head throbbing, nausea roiling in his stomach.

Vader had captured him. _Vader had captured him._ He was a prisoner of the Empire. This couldn't be happening. Images flashed before his eyes, his most horrifying nightmares mixing with memories of his confrontations with the man who claimed to be his long dead father, and was now taking him to a fate worse than death.

“Ben, oh, Ben...” Luke called, unable to hold in the tears.

*******

There was a silence in the _Redemption_ 's medbay, as Leia, Lando and Chewie were giving Han, who was sitting on a bed with a blanket around his shoulders time to process the story. Barely freed from the carbonite, the man had immediately insisted for his friends to tell him what had transpired while he was under.

Facing the huge transparisteel panel in front of her, Leia admired the stars and their fleet, thinking – once more – about how lucky they were to have been able to catch Boba Fett's ship before it left with Han. They had managed to overpower the bounty hunter and taken their friend back to the _Falcon_ before Imperial soldiers had time to catch up with them and prevent them from escaping. She was grateful for that twist of fate; she remembered her despair as they lowered Han into the carbonite, that heartbreaking and terrifying moment when she had thought she would never see him again. Thanks to Lando's change of mind, they had managed to reclaim and free one of the two most important people in her life, something Leia was infinitely relieved and thankful for.

Losing both Luke and Han would have been unbearable.

A potent Corellian curse tore her from her musings, and she turned back to face him. He looked at her, his unfocused hazel eyes set on her, barely starting to see again, his eyebrows furrowed in helpless anger.

“That can't be true. Tell me it's not true.”

She looked down.

“I'm afraid it is. We went back for him, but the Imperials reached him before we could. We didn't have a chance to get him back.”

She crossed his gaze again, which he held for a few seconds as well as he could before putting a hand on his face with a sigh. Chewie softly growled, and Han squeezed the paw he'd set on his shoulder, accepting the comfort.

“That slimy son of a Hutt –“ He cut himself off. “He got what he wanted all along, didn't he? Didn't you say he was after Luke?”

“Yes,” Lando whispered, looking as miserable as the other three. “He was very clear the whole time that you were only bait to draw Skywalker in. I'm sorry.”

Han scowled. “You can be.“

“Han,” Leia said, “Lando helped us rescue you.”

That didn't soften Han's expression. “That's the least he could do! Because of him, Luke is in Darth Vader's hands!”

Leia froze. “I know,” she softly said.

Han immediately calmed down. “'M sorry,” he mumbled.

Leia gave him a half smile, but her heart wasn't in it. She did her best to put up a brave front, but there was a constant knot in her guts at the thought of what their friend might be going through at that monster's hands. She shivered.

“Apologies are not going to help us,” Lando finally said, taking a step to the centre of the room. “Princess, I would like to formally join the Rebellion. My decision is taken. I was trying to protect my city from the Empire, but I see now that nothing I could have done would have prevented them from taking it. Vader is ruthless, and all my actions have achieved is to forfeit the life of a good man. If there is anything I can do to help, I will.”

She turned to him and tried her best to keep her smile on her lips.

“Thank you, Lando,” she said, as gracefully as she could with the weight on her chest, a grief that she had an inkling all of them were bearing. “Your dedication is appreciated.”

Han shifted in his seat, a sully frown on his face as he squinted at the both of them, still unable to see very well. Unwilling to have him sustain false ideas atop all their other woes, Leia took his hand and squeezed. Han's face immediately softened, and he shot her a smile, that she returned. Chewie growled, and Han looked at him again, the worried expression returning on his features.

“As much as I hate it, pal, I think Lando's right in this. Luke's gone,” he answered. “I don't see how there could be hope for him. After all, he's the pilot who destroyed the Death Star, and a wannabe Jedi...”

He didn't finish his sentence. None of them particularly wanted to hear it. 

“No,” Leia said. “Luke's not dead. And we're going to rescue him. But there's something I must do before.”

She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. “On Hoth, before everything, Luke asked me for clearance to leave for Jedi training on Dagobah. I was the only one to know where he went, and he didn't even want to tell me at first. I want to go there and ask for his teacher's help in saving him.”

She glared at everybody in the room. “I must stress that this information is of absolute need-to-know level. It cannot be repeated to anyone.”

“Nobody's going to rat it out, Princess,” Han said. “And to who, anyway? But that's not the main problem I see here. How can you be so sure he's still alive?”

Leia stayed silent, trying to put words on it. How could she explain something that was pure intuition? She didn't even understand it herself.

“I... feel it, somehow,” she said. “Before leaving Bespin, I heard him talk to me. That's how I knew where to find him, although unfortunately Vader got there before we did. How I know he's not dead is similar. I don't fully understand it, but I am absolutely certain he lives.”

 _Though I don't know in which condition._ It haunted her. She felt awful for thinking that way, but she sometimes couldn't help wonder if it wouldn't have been better for Luke to die, rather than be taken in Vader's custody.

“You feel it, huh?” Han broke the stunned silence that had settled after she spoke. “Luke used to say that a lot, too. Maybe you've got the same crazy powers as he did?”

Leia absently nodded. “That's something else I hope to discover,” she muttered to herself.

*******

The small cell Luke was confined in didn't allow for distractions, and as such he had no idea how much time he had remained in here, sitting on the floor with his knees up and his head resting on them, clutching his right wrist against his chest. His whole body was hurting, but the worst was his new hand, which felt as though it was burning. Phantom pain, Luke knew. The name was jarring, for it certainly was real enough. He let out a moan through gritted teeth.

At least Han and Leia were safe. He had been able to feel them leave the planet before he lost consciousness, he was certain of it. The thought reassured him. If his friends were safe, he could endure what was coming at him with a lighter heart.

It wasn't as if he had helped them a lot, however. Master Yoda had been right: they hadn't died, they had managed to escape without his assistance. All his rushing to their rescue had achieved was getting himself caught. He wouldn't be able to come back to fulfil his promise to the small Jedi Master any time soon... He could perfectly picture Yoda's disappointed face as he looked down and sighed, and the image made his heart clench. Maybe his reluctance to train him had been right; maybe it had only made things worse now that he was in the Sith' hands. Maybe he should never have been trained. He understood better his teacher's first refusal, considering...

He sighed and lifted his head, setting it against the wall behind him. He took a deep breath, released it slowly, then did it again, in the hopes that the motions could soothe his pain, stop the waves of cold terror from washing upon him every time he spared a thought for the situation he had gotten himself in. A tear dropped down his chin and fell on his throat.

It was no use beating himself up, he thought. Right now he needed strength, something the guilt and the uncertainty gnawing at him wouldn't provide. He kept his breaths regular, felt his abdomen rise and fall, his chest expand and retract itself, and focused on the sensation. 

In the empty room, the sound of the air coming in and out of his lungs was too loud for his comfort, feeding a line of thought he knew he had to confront sooner or later.

It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Vader must have lied. And yet here, in the darkness of his solitude, Luke was no longer so certain. Vader's outstretched hand, his dark words shaking him to his core, were carved into his eyelids, haunting him.

It ought to have changed nothing. He shouldn't be affected by it. Blood didn't define a person, and he was still the same man. But repeating these words over and over didn't alleviate the weight of the revelation. Vader's atrocities kept playing in his mind, a horrifying litany: the Purge, Alderaan, Leia, Han, all the worlds he had ruined, all the Rebels he had killed, maimed or tortured. 

There was so much he didn't understand. Was Anakin Skywalker a myth then, created to push him on the path of a Jedi? Luke couldn't believe it. Too many people had known him, or had stories about him; he had witnessed too many fond smiles on the faces of Alliance veterans. But then what became of him? Had he... turned into that monster of a machine-man? How could someone that everybody spoke so highly of become like that?

And why had Ben lied to him? All these stories about his father, the cunning warrior, the great pilot and the good friend, murdered by Vader? He had even given him his father's lightabre... The thought that he might unknowingly have wielded Vader's former weapon revolted him. But the sadness and the regret in Ben's eyes had looked all too real. Luke couldn't believe it had all been a scheme, designed to betray him and keep him from his real sire; or worse, to set him up against him. A perfect tool of revenge.

Vader must have lied. Nothing else made sense. But he had no reason to do so. And he had healed him... He hadn't killed Luke, slaughtered him like all other Jedi before him. That had to mean Luke was special to him.

Which he would be, if he truly was... If Vader truly was his father.

It was the first time Luke let the words form themselves in his head, and he had to close his eyes to fight against the disgusted denial overwhelming him. Pain shot through his right arm again, but this time he welcomed it. It felt deserved and comforting, as if suffering could somehow cleanse him of the stain he bore at the deepest of himself. The mere possibility that he could be Vader's offspring left him feeling tainted and dirty, his whole self smeared by the connection.

For if he came from such a foul being, if the much-admired Anakin Skywalker had become this nightmare, what did that mean for him? Was he, too, capable of such atrocities as Vader? Did he also hold this propensity for evil, this hatred and wickedness ready to be unleashed at a moment's inattention?

He had always known there was something different about him.

No. No. Never. It didn't matter, he wouldn't turn, he would remain true to the Rebellion. But these promises seemed empty now. Horrible images were forming in his head, of his flesh turning into metal, his arm striking without his consent, blood that wasn't his own seeping into his joints. He heard the Sith Lord's threats again, of what the Emperor would do to him, of what he would make him become. He wondered if it was possible at all, to change a person so much; but perhaps all of it was already there, hidden in the darkest corner of his heart.

He wished Vader had killed him. The intensity of the feeling surprised him, clogged his throat with despair. It would be so much better for the galaxy if he was dead, his horrendous bloodline ended. He wouldn't have the occasion of doing any more damage, wouldn't inflict this risk on innocent worlds. He was no Jedi; just Sithspawn, a curse ready to happen, the child of a devil. For a feverish moment, he hated that they had left him weaponless. He longed for a last act of defiance, for a way to show them that he would never submit to them.

He longed for it all to stop.

He felt the tears well up in his eyes again, and fought against them as best as he could. He couldn't give in – he had to be – what had Master Yoda said? Calm, at peace... He breathed again, and tried to meditate past his misery.

He needed guidance. He needed support, to know he wasn't alone in this.

“Ben, please...” he tried again, barely daring to hope. “Help me.”

He choked his desperate prayer out a couple more times, knowing that if his first mentor hadn't come, he probably wouldn't. And what reason did he have to come to him now? 

Nevertheless, repeating the words gave him something to focus on, anything but his current situation. His torment dulled, until it only left a cold and empty hole in his heart, strangely comforting. Feeling nothing was better. It was safer.

A blue shape started appearing in front of him, hazy and imprecise, but Luke immediately felt who it was through the Force. He almost didn't believe it.

“Ben,” he whispered, relieved beyond anything he thought possible. “Oh, Ben, I'm so glad to see you.”

The older man's features came into view, looking at him with both disapprobation and pity. Luke sat up, tried to stand before his shaking legs made him fall down again, then crawled on his knees closer to the shimmering ghost.

“Luke,” Ben said, a sad smile on his lips. “You have put yourself in quite the predicament.”

Luke looked away and bowed his head, ashamed. He knew he deserved the reproach. Hearing it from Ben was difficult, but better than being on his own.

“I'm sorry.”

“You weren't ready to confront Vader. He beat you easily, because you were no match for him. Now he is bringing you to the Emperor, who will submit you to even more trials. None of it would have happened, had you listened to Yoda and me, and stayed on Dagobah to finish your training.”

Luke nodded, unable to speak. His fingers played with the rim of his sleeve. Ben was right. He had failed, and badly; it weighted on his chest like a ton of lead. He wished he could undo it, one way or another.

His eyes fell on the thin scar on his wrist, and he swallowed.

“Ben,” he whispered. “Please tell me it's not true. Please tell me Vader isn't my... isn't my father.” The words tasted like ashes on his tongue.

The ghost sighed, and Luke's heart sunk, his last hopes destroyed.

“I'm sorry, Luke,” Ben replied. “You weren't ready to hear it. We would have told you, when the time was right.”

“When the time was right?” Luke said before he could help it, incredulous, looking the old man up in the eye again. Anger and disappointment raged in his chest, so violent he could barely hold his words in check. “You knew I was going up against him! What better time was there? You told me Darth Vader murdered Anakin Skywalker, you _lied_ to me!”

Ben's image flickered for a moment, and Luke thought with dismay he would disappear then and there; but then he raised his hand in urgency.

“Luke, please, try to calm down... I know this is difficult. This place is strong with the dark side; it is very hard for me to appear here. I can only speak to you if your negative emotions don't get in the way.”

Luke looked away and took a deep breath, swallowing his indignation. No matter how much he wanted to rant and scream at Ben, being able to talk to him was more important.

“I didn't lie to you,” Ben continued. “Anakin Skywalker was my dearest friend. When he turned to the dark side, all of that disappeared; the good man that was your father was destroyed, and only Vader remained. So what I told you was true, from a certain point of view.”

“A certain point of view,” Luke scoffed, but the venom was gone from it. There were too many questions to be answered, too many mysteries: Ben's words seemed to conceal as much as they said. “Why did he turn?”

Ben looked away from Luke, his eyes unfocused. “I still do not know,” he confessed. “The Emperor somehow seduced him. Anakin had always been very fond of him; I don't know what he told him. I didn't see it coming. When I realised what was happening, it was too late.”

Luke kept silent, taking it all in. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head; he tried to understand, to reconcile the picture he had always had of his father to that of the black-clad man who had cut his hand and tortured his friends. How was it possible to change so much?

“Luke,” Ben said. “Be very careful in dealing with Vader. You have much of your mother's heart, but I would hate to lose you like we lost her. Until the very end, she believed there was still good in Vader. She tried to reach him, and died for it. Anakin is gone; you have to accept that. He is more machine than man now.”

Luke looked down. The whole situation felt unreal, and all too true at the same time. He was so confused and lost. There was a hole in his heart, a wound that nothing could fill. Again cold despair spread in his chest, and he wanted to die, wished he had a blade or a blaster nearby, anything that could take his cursed life from him. Death would be the most merciful fate that could befall him, at this point: the alternative, becoming like his father, was too terrifying.

“What do I do now?” he whispered.

There was a long silence, or at least Luke thought it was so. His heart was beating in his throat, and he felt sick to his stomach.

“There is but one thing to do, I fear,” Ben slowly replied. “The Emperor and Vader must die.”

A shiver ran through Luke's spine. It made sense, and to an extent he had expected it. But he was their prisoner. The task was near impossible.

“You want me to kill them?” He looked up at Ben again, and saw confirmation in the grave look on his face.

“Luke, you are our last hope. I don't want to put this on your shoulders, but I have to. Only you can rid the world of the Sith.”

“How?” Luke couldn't help ask, feeling even more lost and desperate than he was before. “They've captured me, Ben – they're going to – I don't think I can do it.”

“Then the galaxy will be lost.” Ben's tone was full of regret, but hard as durasteel, and Luke wanted to crawl into a hole. He closed his eyes and bowed his head down. Images swirled within him, of his training on Dagobah: a ship rising out of water, a small being with his hand held out, guiding the massive craft on its way. _I can't believe it. That is why you fail._

He gritted his teeth with grim determination. He couldn't afford to fail this time. Vader and the Emperor had to die, and it was now his responsibility to make sure they did. A plan began to form in his head as he remembered the leather glove reaching out to him with promises of power, as he hung above a chasm clinging to a gantry.

“Vader... Vader made me a – an offer,” he confessed, shame filling him. “He wanted me to rule at his side. He still does, he told me to think about it while we get to Coruscant. I could pretend to do it. It would put me in the perfect place to strike.”

He didn't know what he had expected from Ben, but even more apprehension hadn't been it.

“Luke, be very careful. The dark side is insidious and seductive, it takes when you least expect it to. I don't want to see you destroyed like Anakin was. This is incredibly dangerous.”

“But everything about my situation is dangerous,” Luke argued, feeling heat and resolve warming him up as if life had come back to him. Again he had purpose. “It's the only way I have to get close enough to them. If I resist them openly they'll always be wary of me. It's better if they don't know my intentions.”

Ben's lips were pressed against each other. “I don't like this.”

“I won't fall. I promise,” Luke said, looking Ben right into the eye. “I'm not going to fail you this time.”

Ben scrutinised him once more, then reluctantly nodded. “If you think this is the wiser course, then you must do what you think is right.”

He looked up brusquely, as if something had surprised him, and his shape flickered once like a holocall about to get out of range. Luke, too, felt the well of darkness approach like a block of ice in his guts.

“I must go now, Luke. Have courage, and remember what you have learnt. May the Force be with you...”

With that he disappeared, leaving Luke alone in the room, shivering from the cold. He put his arms around himself, and retreated into the farther, darker corner of the cell, staring at the door. A presence was coming; a presence he knew well.

A thousand doubts swirled in his mind now that Ben was gone. His warnings rung into his ears, clearer than they were when he'd first admonished them. Wasn't he doing a huge mistake? Was he really up to this, could he stand up to Vader and the Emperor – and whatever they had prepared to lure him to the dark side?

But he gritted his teeth and swallowed his insecurities. _Do, or do not; there is no try,_ Yoda's voice whispered to him. He wouldn't fail. He couldn't fail.

He brought his knees up and put his arms around them, pretending to be scared, lost, and ready to give in. After the show of defiance he'd given Vader earlier, he would have to be especially persuasive; and if he was truly honest with himself, he had to admit the pretence of fright wasn't so difficult to keep up. But now he had an aim beneath these feelings, and the steely core of determination helped him keep his centre, burning deep inside him. He closed his eyes and took a long and slow breath, then let it out. 

The door slid open just as his eyes did, and he took in the shape of his greatest enemy, towering above him like an angel of death come to pass judgement. He swallowed in fear, reminded himself of his plan.

“I hope you have thought about my offer, young one,” Vader said.

Luke looked down and ostentatiously bit his lip, obviously torn up.

“I have, actually,” he whispered, so low he doubted Vader could hear it without the Force.

A flash of surprise resonated around him, and Luke had to restrain himself not to smile. It was working.

“So you will turn, and accept my training until the moment we can strike?”

“Yes,” Luke said, and he didn't have to pretend to sound like the word had been torn from his throat. Saying it sent shivers of revulsion down his spine. He wasn't supposed to do this.

It was all for the plan. Vader and the Emperor needed to die.

He looked up in uncertainty when Vader didn't immediately respond. The Dark Lord was observing him, his hands behind his back; only the way his helmet was inclined reassured Luke that he hadn't blown up everything. He watched his breath carefully, in and out, in and out. He couldn't waver right now.

“Rise then, Luke Skywalker, and kneel before me to pledge your allegiance.”

His heart in his throat, Luke obeyed. It took all his strength of will, and sheer determination made Force, to compel his weakened body into obeying him and lower itself in an uncomfortable position: one knee down, his arm on his thigh, his head bowed in submission. The words he forced out of his mouth had a bitter and acid taste; the taste of betrayal.

“I pledge myself to your teachings... Father.”

All around him, the Force roared and exploded, revelling in Vader's dark mirth.


	2. A rogue and peasant slave

Dagobah was a desolated swamp planet, dark and stifling, the air of which Leia had trouble breathing.

Han and Chewbacca had experienced many difficulties to find a place to land the _Falcon_ safely: the ground was too humid, or there were too many trees in their way. Finally they'd found a small spot next to a lake, a perilous place, only attained thanks to both pilots' expert manoeuvring.

Leia set a foot in the mud, careful not to slip. She secured her grip on her blaster, but there was no threatening being in sight, only bugs and snakes.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Han asked from behind her.

She turned around to watch him, but didn't answer at once. She had been certain before, but now, seeing this inhospitable landscape, she wondered if she hadn't made a mistake.

At the same time, something was telling her she wasn't wrong. This was a perfect hiding place. Nobody would ever think to come search for a Jedi Master here, in the middle of nowhere, in such an inhospitable environment.

Her boot caught a pond of water, splashing around. She brought her blaster up.

Behind her, Chewie growled. “Well, pal, you could stay on the ship if the climate didn't suit you, nobody forced you along for the ride,” Han answered him. “It would have been good not to leave her alone, too. Now she's gonna be all infested with snakes. I don't understand why you so insisted to come.”

Chewie answered, but Leia stopped paying attention to their bickering, keeping all her senses in alert. She could only hope she was going in the right direction; she was walking completely blindly, on a hunch. The atmosphere here was stiffening, and she couldn't help but feel tense.

She stopped, straightened, looked around, her hands still firmly clenched on her weapon. Something was watching her... she could feel prying eyes burying into her.

Only then did she see the little green creature, a stick in his hand, looking like a troll or a fairy mocking her.

“Away with your weapon,” he softly said. “I mean you no harm.”

She assessed the threat the creature posed, then lowered her blaster and put it back in its holster as Han and Chewie came on her level.

“I am Leia Organa,” she replied, for politeness' sake. She was somehow certain the creature knew who she was; but she didn't know his name, and for all her diplomatic training, she felt completely out of her depth. “Who are you?"

The little creature didn't answer her. His gaze was now set on her companions, a wistful light in his eyes, even though nothing in his posture had changed.

Getting past both Han and her, Chewie took a step forward and knelt in the mud, extending a hand to the creature with a friendly growl. He took the Wookiee's much bigger paw in his three-fingered hands.

“A long time it has been, Chewbacca,” he said. “Glad am I to see you well.”

An incredulous Han stepped forward, throwing a wide-eyed look at his first mate, who made the introductions. “What are you saying, Chewie – you know this guy? A Jedi – _this_ is Master Yoda?”

Leia's eyes widened, but she didn't comment, finding Yoda's eyes set on her again.

“Come,” he said. “Little time have we, and a great deal to discuss.”

They followed him on a dark and moist path to his hut, a tiny thing made of mud, branches and leaves. What a misery, Leia couldn't help thinking, to have to retreat here after knowing the grand columns of the Jedi Temple. She had only seen the site from afar during her stays on Coruscant, but she remembered the images her father had shown her, the sense of profound majesty coming from the place, even sullied and destroyed as it was now. At the present time, nothing remained of this building of beauty, nothing but ashes and pain. Leia's heart clenched, knowing the feeling intimately.

“On the future, you must look,” Yoda said to her. “For always in motion is it; the past, set in stone remains.”

She nodded, a little peeved by his apparent ability to read her mind. All together, they entered the hut; the four of them barely held together in it, and Chewie in particular was having trouble avoiding to bump into the walls.

Yoda served them a strange kind of green soup, that Han watched dubiously and Chewie swallowed without a problem. Leia took it politely and held her breath as she put the spoon in her mouth. Thankfully, it tasted a lot better than it smelled.

“Master Yoda, I will be direct with you,” she said. “I am the bearer of bad news. We need your help. Our friend, your student, Luke –“

Yoda's expression darkened.

“Know I do, what young Skywalker has become,” he cut her off. “Too early he rushed to confront his enemy. Corrupted him, Vader has.”

Leia frowned.

“Luke was captured, but there is still hope,” she said. “I trust him. I know he won't betray us. But we need to rescue him.”

Yoda looked down, tapped on the ground with his walking stick.

“Nothing for him I can do. Lost he is, to Vader, and the dark side.”

Leia couldn't believe her ears.

“You would just give up on him?” she replied. “He is still alive, probably suffering. He has always been loyal to us; I refuse to abandon him to his fate without even trying...”

“And what would you do, hmmm? Rush to Vader, like him? Much good it did.”

Leia looked down and took a deep breath, trying to reign in her helplessness. She knew she stood no chance against Vader, knew the probability of their mission being successful was minimal. With the dire defeats the Alliance had suffered, they really couldn't afford it. But the thought of leaving Luke in Vader's hands, subjected to whatever cruelties he had in store for him...

“That is why I and the Alliance need your help. You were once the head of the Jedi Order. If anyone has enough power to vanquish Vader and help overthrow the Empire, it's you.”

Yoda looked at her, watched her for a moment, then sighed.

“Old and sick, I have become,” he confessed, his voice lower. “No longer strong enough am I to fight. But to teach... yes, teach I can.”

Leia's brow furrowed.

“Teach...?”

“Yes, yes,” Yoda said. “The ways of the Jedi you learn. Our last hope, you are.”

She stared at him and let out an incredulous laugh. For the life of her, she couldn't picture herself as a Jedi.

“Me?” she said. “Master, I'm sorry, but I can't. I have responsibilities to the Alliance. I am not Luke. I don't have his powers...”

“So certain are you?” Yoda said. He poked her with his stick. “Resisted Vader twice you have. Strong in the Force, you are; disciplined, and dedicated. A good Jedi you would make.”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, for once at a complete loss for words. She exchanged a look with Han and Chewie, who both looked as surprised as she was.

But already the idea grew on her. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad plan after all. The Alliance needed all the advantage they could have; a Jedi's powers certainly would help them get rid of Vader.

She felt like she was betraying Luke... but Yoda was right. As things were, they stood no chance of successfully rescuing him. She had to focus on what she could do; for now, she could only pray for him to stay strong, and train to become capable to save him.

“All right,” she said, praying her friend would forgive her. “I will learn what you can teach me.”

The Jedi nodded, with a small, satisfied grunt.

*******

Luke absently tugged on the collar of his shirt, trying to get the uncomfortable fabric to loosen. After his apparent defection, Vader had moved him in fancier quarters and insisted he put on an Imperial uniform, albeit one without rank insignias or code cylinders. Luke hadn't protested, but he hated it. Black on him was so severe. It made him seem older and more burdened, his blue eyes cold, his skin even paler than it already was from the lack of sleep and appetite he'd been suffering from ever since his capture.

It made him look too much like his father for comfort.

Luke repressed a shudder, trying to summon some confidence. He couldn't show the slightest sign of weakness.

This was it, the moment he had feared so much: he would be taken to the Emperor. It was a wonder Vader had taken his betrayal of the Rebels at face's value, one Luke still had trouble believing. He doubted the Emperor would be so complacent. He would most certainly be suspicious of his sudden change of heart... and for a reason. Luke needed to be extremely careful. His smallest misstep could be his undoing.

Yet despite all his reasoning and preparation, the thought of being Vader's son still sent shivers of disgust down his spine. The black outfit didn't help. It mocked him, fed his fears with a scent of destiny.

None of that mattered. He wouldn't turn to the dark side, he would never become like him.

As if summoned by his sombre thoughts, Vader's dark presence pressed against his mind, announcing his coming. Luke buried his worries deep inside him. His father – and he had to get used to calling him that – could never know of them.

Luke didn't start when his door swished open.

“It is time, my son.”

Luke swallowed, trying not to show his irritation at the address. Vader practically only called him that these days, eager as he was to claim him, to prevent Luke from forgetting where he came from. As if Luke could ever forget the horror of hanging from that gantry, his wrist on fire, as his entire world was shattered with four little words...

Vader might be his kin, but he had never been kind.

He turned around and took a step forward, towards Vader and the door. Vader met him halfway, lifting his hands to straighten Luke's collar, and the young Jedi did his best to conceal the shiver that went through his spine at having his hands so close to his throat. Then Vader guided him outside, now holding him by the shoulder.

Luke took a deep breath. There was no turning back.

He was silent as Vader led him to the shuttle. He buckled himself in without a word, looked quietly as the ship departed and the buildings of the city grew bigger any minute. Despite the lack of shackles on his wrists, his stomach was roiling as though he still was a prisoner.

They landed on the platform outside the palace. Luke followed Vader through many corridors, doing everything he could to remain calm until they arrived in a vast, dark chamber.

Luke shuddered as soon as he entered, ill at ease. Long and crooked shadows filled the room, licking at him like claws wanting to claim him. But what was at work here was more sinister than tricks of the light. It was cold and oily, wrapped itself around his heart and bled irrational anxiety in it. Luke resisted them, pulled his defences tighter around him.

In the middle of the room were stairs leading up to a throne, which was turned away from them. They walked up a few stairs, then Vader knelt. Luke hurried to do the same, moments after his father. He kept his head down, his heart hammering as he waited for the Emperor to greet them.

The silence was deafening. Through it he heard the chair roll around quietly, felt the Emperor's piercing gaze on them.

“Young Skywalker,” he finally said. “I have been looking forward to meeting you.”

His voice was low and raspy, no louder than a whisper, but all the stronger for it.

Luke swallowed. Knowing what he was expected to answer didn't make it easier to say the words out loud.

“I know... master.”

A spike of delighted surprise in the Force. There was a rustling of cloth as the Emperor rose, came closer at a leisurely pace. Luke had to refrain from looking up.

“It seems congratulations for this quick success are in order, Lord Vader.”

He was talking of Luke as if he weren't just there, kneeling at his feet, but there was no mistaking the dark triumph in the Force swirling possessively around him. Luke wanted to swat it away, to shrug it off him, but he forced himself to remain still as a statue.

“The shock of learning the truth, doubtlessly,” Vader replied. “Obi-Wan lied to him about his ancestry.”

Despite the monotonous tone of the vocoder, it was impossible to mistake the rage in his words.

“Did he?” the Emperor asked, but he sounded distracted, uninterested. Coldness wrapped itself closer around Luke, probing, and he knew the question was directed at him.

He swallowed. This was his first test. He had to make it convincing, to prove his goodwill to the Emperor beyond a doubt and make him believe he had turned... Yoda's words came back to him. _Anger, fear, aggression. The dark side of the Force are they._

“Yes,” he hissed. But he knew feigning anger wouldn't be enough. Sending a silent apology to his departed mentor, Luke thought of how much he resented Ben for leaving him to face Vader unaware, for concealing this essential truth from him, letting him discover it from his enemy. He projected these emotions into the Force.

“He told me Lord Vader had killed my father so I would avenge him. He set me up to _murder my own father_ ,” he spat, a repressed tremor in his voice.

_I know what I have to do, Ben. I'll make you proud._

Two fingers settled under his chin and Luke raised his head, finding himself looking into the Emperor's yellow eyes. He held his gaze, careful to keep his shields tightly up.

“Yes...” the Emperor whispered, the barest hint of a satisfied smile on his lips. “You have much anger in you.”

Luke restrained a shiver as the Emperor raked an eager, hungry gaze over him.

“The question is, what does it want...”

“To serve you, master,” Luke lied through his teeth. “I have been kept from my destiny for too long. I want to learn about the dark side of the Force and its power.”

He stared straight at the Emperor, challenging him to look him in the eye again. The Emperor crossed his gaze, an undecipherable glint in his pupils. Thin, light fingers moved up into Luke's hair and tilted his head backwards; Luke swallowed, but didn't resist his touch.

“And powerful will you be, son of Vader.”

There was a breath of cold air against his mind, an icy tendril slithering for entrance, so subtle Luke doubted he would have felt it with any less training. His first reaction was to clam his shields up even tighter, shaken by the mere attempt to invade his privacy.

Gold shimmered in the Emperor's eyes, and Luke understood his mistake. The Sith Master would accept nothing but Luke submitting to him completely. That meant welcoming him even in this most intimate part of himself, showing him his deepest feelings and most prized memories.

But he couldn't let him discover his plans, couldn't lead him to Master Yoda...

He was trapped. There was no telling what would happen to him were the Emperor to doubt him... and yet his thoughts themselves were incriminating...

He had no choice. He would have to try it all.

Swallowing his revolt at what he was preparing to do, he buried all suspicious thoughts deep inside him, in the most hidden part of his mind. He surrounded them with intimate yet benign ideas, focused on what he knew the Empire knew of him, on his desire to learn about his father and the shock of the revelation at Bespin. Then, slowly, fighting with himself, he closed his eyes and lowered his outer shield.

Immediately the Emperor invaded his mind. Had Luke not paid attention, he probably wouldn't even have felt him enter, so subtle were the wreaths of smoke pervading the frontiers of his thoughts. But now there was no turning away from the nauseating sensation. His dark presence was coming from everywhere at once, tracing twisting and contorted ways between his memories. Tentacles wrapped possessively around them, smearing them.

Luke fought his disgust as much as he could. In response to the intrusion, he did his best to project submission and eagerness, thought as much as he could of wanting to learn this forbidden power. He summoned all his frustration, all his questions without answer. Atop it all he focused on Obi-Wan's betrayal again, the confusion and disappointment he had felt when discovering his lie, this gaping wound he hadn't expected to feel so raw but which now served him well.

He hadn't realised it before, but what he'd just said was true. Ben hadn't trusted him enough to confide in him that the enemy they were fighting was his own father. He had known how much Luke idolised the man, and still he said nothing. Hadn't he considered how devastated Luke would be, if he learnt afterwards that in seeking to avenge his father, he had ended up killing him? Didn't Luke have the right to make that choice?

Did he intend to tell Luke at all?

Finally, after what seemed forever, the Emperor withdrew. His hand left Luke's face as well, and the young man looked down, fighting not to show his relief. His breath came more easily now that the invasion had stopped. His heart was drumming in his throat, his stomach twisting, and a headache was forming between his temples. He balled his hands in fists to keep them from trembling.

These emotions were just a sham, only there for the Emperor's sake. Luke had forgiven Ben. He wasn't going to turn.

“Rise, young Skywalker,” the Emperor said, and Luke obeyed, his featured schooled in the most neutral expression he could. “You must be tired after your long journey. My guards will attend to you and show you to your quarters.”

He gave Luke a smile meant to be benevolent, but which made the young man's skin crawl. At a gesture of his hand, two of the red-robed men who had been silently standing around the door moved forward.

“Thank you, master.” Saying these words after the violation he had just experienced made him want to throw up. But he couldn't express it, couldn't let out the scream building up inside his chest. He bowed again, just to make sure to look subservient enough, then he followed the guards out of the room, keeping his pace steady and slow despite his eagerness to be out of here at last.

There was a moment of silence after the boy's departure. The Emperor remained quiet, contemplating, while Vader still knelt before him. Around both Sith, the shadows slowly spun, brushing them, whispering to them.

“What do you think of this, my friend?”

Vader stood and looked at the door through which Luke had left, crossing his arms.

“He is still young,” he rumbled, “but with the proper training, he will be powerful.”

“He is not to be trusted.”

Vader turned towards the Emperor, trying to decipher his expression. But his face was deep into the hood, and the shadows covered it, preventing Vader from seeing him.

“How so?”

The Emperor turned towards him.

“He is skilled at shielding,” he answered. “But I could feel scheming from him. I do not think he has fully turned.”

“If he hasn't, he will,” Vader assured him. “I will make sure of it.”

The Emperor nodded in his hood.

“Yes... I believe it possible. We should better hope he will open himself to the dark side, for his own sake.”

A stone fell on Vader's guts at the unspoken threat.

“I have no doubt of it,” he said.

“Good.” The Emperor leant on his cane, more out of habit than anything else, Vader suspected. They were the only ones in the room, and Vader knew how little he needed it. “Is he the only thing you have brought back from your journey?”

Vader tightened his fists, wondering how the Emperor knew of his failure to capture the princess, the smuggler and the Wookiee.

“The administrator of the facility was a traitor. Skywalker's friends managed to escape with his help. I could only capture the droids they were travelling with.”

He expected the Emperor to express his disappointment in him, and was surprised when he smiled instead.

“They will be very useful to us,” he said. “Have them brought to him, and make sure they are to record him at any time. This way we will be able to see his real behaviour.”

The plan was devious and clever. Vader had never thought of using the droids in this way, but it was an excellent way to discover what his son was really up to.

“Yes, master.”

He bowed deeply before exiting the room in turn.

*******

Luke's quarters were more luxurious than anything he had ever known. He had been worried, for a moment, that the Emperor had seen through him and was secretly sending him to the cells. As it turned out, he couldn't have been more wrong. He didn't know if he ought to be reassured or unsettled by that.

Of course, the door didn't open when he tried pushing the activation button, as he realised with a flash of panicked anger. A gilded cage, but a prison nonetheless. He shouldn't have expected anything less.

He looked around and took in his surroundings. His quarters were composed of two huge rooms, wider than the living room of his homestead on Tatooine had been, with ceilings so high he thought someone twice his size could stand there without a problem. Tables and chairs of precious wood furnished the first room, as well as a couch and shelves with books; in the middle of the second stood a large bed with many cushions. A desk with a chair had been placed next to the high window, which bore dark red curtains, the same colour as the bedsheets. There was a door in the opposite wall; he supposed it led to a refresher, but didn't open it.

He sat on the too comfortable bed and ran a hand on his face, overwhelmed. Leia would have been more at ease in such an environment than he was...

Luke let himself drop lying on the mattress, finding it even more comfortable than he'd expected. He was so exhausted, and the material of the sheets was so soft, he probably could fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. It would be more than welcome after what had just happened.

He let out a deep sigh. The encounter with the Emperor had drained him on every level, and he shivered just remembering it. He still felt that dark power and possessiveness lingering on him, claiming him and promising endless torment if he tried to resist... It was revolting and terrifying. Luke didn't know how he was supposed to deal with that in the long run...

Suddenly he felt very small and helpless, wishing he could just sink into the warm, soft mattress and disappear there forever. The Emperor was so powerful. Against Vader, Luke had already been severely outmatched, barely getting out of the duel alive; he suspected he would be dead, had Vader not wanted to toy with him like an anooba with a piece of meat before subduing him. And he could feel the ruler of the Empire was even stronger... he had only seen him for a few minutes, but it had been enough to be overwhelmed by the sheer blackness he gave off. How could he ever hope to win against him, manage to kill him?

How could he ever kill them _both?_

No, he was being negative again, Luke realised, distractedly running the back of his knuckles against the fabric of the sheets. The right occasion would eventually present itself... he just had to wait for it, be ready to strike. Hadn't Master Yoda advised patience to him?

He pressed the heels of his hands on his eyes and exhaled again, but the pressure on his chest wouldn't leave. Maybe he should take a shower. He doubted it would help with his headache, but perhaps he would feel less dirty afterwards...

A soft buzzing tore him from his musings, and he sat up. He looked around, wondering what it could be for a moment before realising it had to be the entrance door to his quarters. Luke stood up and walked to the door, intrigued. Who could want to visit him and bother to announce themselves? He was certain neither Vader nor the Emperor would show such respect for his privacy...

Behind the door stood an Imperial officer. Luke's eyes widened when he saw who was accompanying him.

“Sir, Lord Vader ordered these droids be brought to you.”

Artoo rolled and gently bumped in his shins, and Luke gaped in surprised delight. His face sobered into concern when he saw the box the officer was carrying, in which a visibly distraught Threepio was making wide gestures. His legs were separated from his body, and his head was put up backwards.

“Master Luke! How wonderful!” he exclaimed. “We had the most awful day!”

Luke thanked the officer and took the droids inside before putting Threepio's box on the table. Artoo followed, tweeting and beeping agitatedly.

“Oh come on, Artoo, you are getting worked up for nothing again. Master Luke is in pristine condition! I am relieved to see you unharmed, sir!”

Luke threw him a weak smile, but didn't correct him, ignoring the flash of pain shooting in his wrist and hand.

“And you are in a terrible state,” he said. “What in the galaxy happened to you?”

“Oh! sir, it was a _nightmare!_ I was just walking in this “Cloud City,” minding my own business and trying to find the others, who had left me behind _once again_...”

Luke smiled but didn't answer, and looked down to repair the droid's legs. Threepio kept talking as he worked, and he felt grateful for the sense of normalcy it brought. No matter how dire the situation, you could count on the protocol droid to complain about mundane things in the most dramatic way possible. Granted, what had happened to him was worrying, but Luke was certain he would be able to make him look brand new again.

However, the worries on his mind weren't to be pushed away for long. He was happy to have the droids back, of course; they were a great comfort. But why would the Emperor and Vader want him to have them? He still remembered vividly Vader's threats about what would be done to him if he didn't turn. And the locked door was proof they didn't trust him... so why let Artoo and Threepio near him? They had even put tools in the same box as Threepio was brought in...

And why did Artoo look so tense?

“You moronic tin can, would you stop worrying for a while? I _know_ Darth Vader sent us here, but you can see Master Luke is perfectly fine! Nobody wants him harm!”

Luke frowned.

“What's he saying?”

“The most ridiculous things, sir, as per his habit,” Threepio said. “He claims we are still in enemy territory, and you are in some kind of tremendous danger around us. How preposterous!”

Luke frowned as an idea occurred to him. Surveillance. Of course. He should have thought of that earlier. If the Emperor doubted his loyalty and wanted to assess it, watching him in the privacy of his own quarters, when he believed himself alone or surrounded with nothing but friends only made sense.

His stomach twisted unpleasantly, and he felt nauseous again, but he didn't let any sign of his burning anger and disgust show up on his face.

Well then. The game was on. Being on his guard day and night, upholding his lies at every hour didn't sound enjoyable in the least, but he had a job to do.

He forced out a chuckle that he hoped didn't sound too strained.

“Very much so,” he replied, before looking down at the astromech. “I am completely safe, Artoo. You have no reason for concern.”

Artoo let out an incredulous beep and rolled closer to Luke.

“No, I promise you,” Luke insisted. He knelt to come at Artoo's level; never mind that his video sensor would pick him up better, he wasn't supposed to know that...

“I...” He looked away, feigning hesitation. “The Empire is no longer my enemy.”

Artoo's small trill denoted confusion, and Luke didn't have to fake the grief taking over him as he closed his eyes.

“Artoo, I decided to work with them,” he confessed in a whisper. His throat tightened at the thought that this recording could be broadcasted to the Rebellion. Surely the Emperor wouldn't fail to do that, break all his ties with them... But he had no choice. There was no turning back.

He averted his gaze, unable to look at his astromech when he made such mournful sounds.

“I know, I know. But Ben lied to me,” he said, sticking to what he had told the Emperor in the throne room. “Vader didn't kill my father. He... he _is_ my father.”

It was the first time he said the words aloud, the first time he admitted to it. It still left a sour taste in his mouth, but was less of an electroshock than it used to, and he wondered what it meant for him. He couldn't deny his accepting the truth must be a good thing... but it felt like betraying what he stood for, anyway.

It didn't matter. He was Vader's son, but he would _never_ submit to him.

As if in response to his thoughts, Vader's presence brushed Luke's mind, announcing his arrival. Luke jumped to his feet as if he'd been doing something forbidden, and immediately hated it. Artoo and Threepio had been brought to him on Vader's order, it was ridiculous to think he'd disapprove of his talking to them.

The door swished open, and the black shape of Darth Vader came in. Luke stood his ground, relaxing muscles he hadn't even realised he'd tensed. Vader looked at the room, at the droids, then at Luke again.

“I trust you have settled in adequately.”

“Yes, father,” Luke murmured. He disliked how easily the word passed his lips now. A glance at his poor protocol droid, still half dismembered, reminded him of something. “Thank you for letting Artoo and Threepio stay with me.”

Vader tilted his head forward in an approving nod.

“They are loyal to you. They will serve you well.” There was a moment of silence, and Luke had to make an effort not to shift on his feet as Vader observed him.

“That is not all I came for,” Vader continued. “The Emperor has put me in charge of your training.”

He unhooked a lightsabre from his belt, and Luke couldn't help recoiling in fear, taking a step back and rising a hand in instinctive defence. Had he seen through him – was he going to – like on Bespin, the heat of the red blade so close to his face –

Vader handed out the hilt to him with a puzzled look. Fighting the embarrassment that heated his cheeks, Luke stepped closer again and wrapped his hand around the cold metal, his prosthetic fingers brushing against his father's.

He turned away in order not to hurt either of them and pressed the activation plate. Bright red sprang from the hilt in an explosive sound, a deadly blade all too familiar to Luke. His heart missed a beat.

“I have been able to evaluate your level when we fought at Bespin,” his father said, somewhat clumsily. “Considering the amount of training you have received, your level is most impressive, but you still have much work ahead of you.”

Luke only partially heard him. He distractedly waved the lightsabre in the air, the pressure on his chest growing as he beheld the ominous light, so unlike the clear blue he had lost among the clouds, and which he already missed.

It dawned on him just exactly what he had entered into. This was a weapon of the dark side, a symbol of everything he was standing against. And yet it didn't feel any different from his own blade, only a little warmer perhaps, despite the shadows entwining around it.

Training from Vader. It felt so terribly wrong, and he was feeling more and more ill at ease. For a short moment, he felt like throwing the lightsabre away and refusing the dark side, reclaiming his Rebel and Jedi identity in spite of the consequences. Torture, captivity, and endless suffering sounded safer and more appealing than the perilous bargain he was striking now...

Could he really do this? he wondered, staring at the bloody, blinding blade. Could he really walk the line so closely, like a tightrope walker, without falling?

He needed to. It was his only chance to grow close enough to strike both Vader and the Emperor down.

He turned the weapon off and let his hand fall down.

“You will come for training with me tomorrow at dawn,” Vader said. “That is how you will spend your days from now on.”

He absently nodded, looking away from Vader. He wished for nothing more than for his father to leave, overwhelmed and still wondering if he wasn't doing a huge mistake. But Vader didn't show any inclination to go away. He hovered in the room, his hands resting on his belt then clutched behind his back, restless.

“I... am glad you made the right choice, Luke,” he said. “I am looking forward to teaching you.”

Luke looked back at him, surprised by the unexpected confession. His father was being genuine, he realised, baffled. He watched him intently, although the mask naturally gave nothing away of Vader's emotions. But he couldn't return the words. Memories of their former duel still turned vividly in his mind, and he would be lying if he said he didn't dread the thought of facing Vader with drawn blades again, even if it was just in sparring. He couldn't trust him not to slice through his wrist again, or any other of his limbs...

Yet it didn't stop him from wondering. Did Vader somehow care? Could it be that, in his sick and twisted way, his father did have affection for him?

He quashed the thought as quickly as it rose, and the asinine hope together with it. That was the orphan in him talking. It didn't matter. Vader was dangerous, his enemy. Luke couldn't let himself be swayed from his duty.

He stiffly nodded, his discomfort growing at the same time as his father's, the both of them standing straight and silent, without knowing how to alleviate the awkwardness. Then, conceding defeat, Vader finally left Luke alone.

Luke looked down, staring at the lightsabre he was still holding in his hand. The hilt was comfortable, adapted to the shape of his hand and well balanced, but it felt heavy and loaded. Luke still wanted nothing more than to throw it away from him, hating all that it represented.

He should have struck Vader down with it. It would have been so simple, and he wanted to smack himself on the head for not thinking of it while he was in the room with him. Vader didn't object to standing close to him. He could so easily have turned the weapon on and ran him through with it...

No, that was a bad solution. Had he done that, the Emperor would immediately have seen through his intentions. He would have doubled his wariness and his surveillance of Luke, or even worse, would have had him imprisoned. Luke would have seen all his freedom of movement ripped away, unable to do anything against him... Better that he stick to his original plan, that he waited for their trust in him to build up, then struck at the most unexpected moment once they believed they had an ally in him.

“This Darth Vader really is a terrifying man,” said Threepio, tearing Luke from his thoughts. He set the lightsabre on the table, and went back to repairing him. It felt good, to build and fix something, ward off the projects of destruction overwhelming him most of the time. As he dove into his work, his confidence came back, his mind grew clearer again.

He could turn the training with his father to his advantage. He knew he was still far from mastering the lightsabre, and he needed to practice his combat skills. This was the perfect opportunity to do that. Not only could he learn from Vader, observe his moves and his technique to apply it in his own, but it also meant he would be close to him, see him on a regular basis and give him plenty of opportunity to carry out a fatal blow. He had to play the long game. It would be a challenge, but at the moment nothing seemed too hard. He promised himself he would keep this confidence and drive.

He would practice; then, when he was strong enough, when both he and the Emperor were persuaded he was on their side, he would strike.


End file.
